


Anal beads, duh

by wastedonyoursmile



Series: A series of unfortunate events (or thank god that happened) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Embarrassing Situations, M/M, Pre-Slash, meet cute, promt fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedonyoursmile/pseuds/wastedonyoursmile
Summary: "What's with the scoffing? A guy can't show another guy anal beads in a mall parking lot? Don't be all judgy, dude."





	Anal beads, duh

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back into writing by doing short exercises. I have a small list of prompts that I'm working off of with the goal of writing between 500-1,500 words without pausing. Most will not be beta'd or edited much, since it's kinda part of my exercise to not deliberate over it until I give up and don't post it. Which means everything will go up as soon as I can get online after writing. Each prompt will be in the end notes.
> 
> Also, I've never written Sterek. Please be gentle. :)

"Man, am I glad to see you. I've been walking around with anal beads and lube in my backpack for an hour and that rent a cop was starting to look at me shifty. I think he was getting ready to search me for shoplifting, but then I finally spotted your car and got the fuck out of dodge. You are so not gonna believe the awesome anal shit I got, Scott, oh my god. It's amazing!" 

"I think you're in the wrong vehicle," says a very controlled voice that is. not. Scott's.

Stiles' head shoots up so fast he jams it into the visor and curses at the same time his jaw dislocates far enough to hit the seat. "You are not Scott. Why are you in Scott's car?"

"No, I'm not Scott and this is my car. Again, you got in the wrong car," the guy behind the wheel lifts an impressive eyebrow and deepens his frown.

"But--"

"Not. Scott's. Car." the guy enunciates slowly, both eyebrows lifting and his mouth tipping down in a close approximation of Grumpy Cat.

"Yeah... So... I'm getting that," Stiles coughs, trying to stuff the anal beads back in his backpack. The guys looks down at them and scoffs. Stiles pauses. "What's with the scoffing? A guy can't show another guy anal beads in a mall parking lot? Don't be all judgy, dude."

"They're rainbow. And look like they could be used to weigh down a dead body. Also they have My Little Pony on them."

"Again. Don't judge. You don't know me. Or Scott. We could have really large--" the guy throws up a hand and makes a pained face.

"Don't finish that sentence. I don't want to know."

"Are you No Homo'ing me right now? Is this a No Homo moment?"

"This is I don't have the slightest fucking clue who you are and you're sitting in my car trying to tell me about your gaping--"

"What?! No! I mean, yes, it is for a huge gaping asshole, and I was going to say 'but not the kind shit comes out of' but I'm talking about Jackson Whittemore and a lot of shit comes out of him so... It's a gag gift, okay? Do you think I enjoyed standing in line to buy these? The woman behind the counter had to be sixty and kept leering at me and I kind of wanted to die, but it's all in the name of love! Well, the love of seeing Jackson dying of embarrassment at a fancy ass restaurant at his own bachelor party! Lyd's may kill me, but, dude, bro, it's so gonna be worth it!"

The guy's just looking at Stiles like he grew Medusa's hair and made kissy faces at him. "Jackson Whittemore? Are you... I'm actually here to buy something for that shithead. Or, well, my sister is buying it and I'm going to write my name on the card and say I did, cause what do you even buy that dickbag anyway?"

"Anal beads, duh." Stiles thinks the guy is trying not to smile. And failing.

"He's going to turn your face into pulp, you realize that, right?"

"I know his weak spots, I can hold my own. And you're, what? Made of steel? You can totally protect my honor... or whatever," Stiles doesn't even try to pretend like he's not checking the guy out.

"And I would do that why?"

"Because I'm pretty?"

"You just accused me of a No Homo and now you think I'll protect you because I think you're hot?"

"Judgy face, dude. You didn't say I wasn't, though. Hot, that is."

"That may be true, but you're a bit weird for my tastes."

"Oh god. Is Jackson your tastes? Do you think he looks tasty? Do you want to taste him? With your dick? My dumb luck. Fuck."

"I don't have a... taste. But Jackson Whittemore sure as hell isn't... Why are we discussing this? Aren't you getting out of my car now so I can wipe my brain clean of this clusterfuck."

"Are you saying I'm forgettable? That's a low blow, man. Here I thought we agreed you thought I was hot and I was going to be your prize stallion."

"What the fuck?"

"Trophy husband?"

"Get out of my car."

"Can I at least get a name to remember you by? And by remember you by I mean add to the card that reads 'let's get together some time xoxo' that'll sit proudly tapped to this beautiful string of beads that I'm still holding and there is a very perplexed looking woman standing outside your window."

"Fuck my life."

"I think I just did. Nice to meet you, my friend!" Stiles grins, stuffing the beads hastily in his backpack and zipping it hazardously. "I'm outta here. See you at the party! I'll be the one peeing in Jackson's wine!"

He's almost exited the car when the guy yells something at him. 

Derek. The human embodiment of a leather daddy Grumpy Cat is named Derek. Sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Holy shit, I'm in the wrong car.


End file.
